FFF#16 "Dry Run"

"It was an honest mistake...or it was honestly stupid. Either way, I didn't mean anything by it."

Darren cocked an eyebrow at the sharply dressed man who was sitting on his bed. "Then why did you laugh?" Darren asked.

"I was just laughing." The man smiled broadly. "I'm a happy chappy, Darren. Can't help myself. It was nothing personal."

"You were laughing, and you were pointing. At me. It's hard not to take that personally." Darren crossed his hands across his chest, resting his elbows on his legs, which were also crossed. "To be honest with you, Ian, I've lost faith in what you're offering."

"Don't be like that, Dazzer!" Ian pushed his open palms together, as though he was praying. "Please, mate, give ickle Ian a second chance. Go on... please! Pretty please?"

"I'm sorry, Ian, but the trust is gone." Darren shook his head.

"I brought you a pressie," Ian said, pulling a fancy box of chocolates from under his jacket. "They're Belgian. Top notch." He reached the box out to Darren, who was seated at the other side of the bedroom. Darren stared at the box for several seconds. Ian gave it a shake and winked. He turned the box to show each of its sides to Darren. "Look, buddy. D'ya see? No strings attached." Darren unwrapped his limbs, got out of his chair and took the box.

There was a soft rap at the bedroom door. It opened and a middle-aged woman's head appeared. "Darren, would your friend, who you haven't introduced me to yet, like a cup of tea or coffee?

"This is Ian, Mum," Darren said. "He's the one-"

"Oh yes, he's the one who's going to help with your career." Darren's mother had come into his bedroom and was hovering next to Ian. Darren slumped back into his chair. "He needs someone to give him a boot up the backside, Ian. He's a lazy little sod." Darren sank forward in the chair. "I've done what I can for him, but he won't listen to me. Not properly." Darren tapped the box of chocolates against the side of his head, while gazing at his feet. "I hope you can persuade him to make something of himself, Ian. Now then, tea? Coffee?"

"I'd love a cup of coffee. Two sugars and a dash of milk, please." Ian pointed at the box of chocolates in Darren's hand. "We could get them opened up."

"Ooo, Belgians!" Darren's mother snatched the chocolates out of her son's hand, then rapped him on his forehead. "Do sit up straight, dear. You look like you're having cramps." She rubbed her hand over the top of the box of chocolates. "I'll put a few of these out. We have doilies, don't you know." She glanced at Darren. "I expect you'll be wanting your usual. Extra milky with eight spoonfuls." She left the room. Darren listened to her steps retreating down the stairs and sighed morosely. Neither of the men said anything for several minutes.

Finally, Ian spoke. "She's a handful, isn't she?"

Darren sighed heavily once more.

Ian rummaged around in his jacket and pulled out a piece of parchment with one hand and a ball point pen with the other. He clicked the top of the pen several times. "It's got ink in it this time. Go on, Darren, you know you want to."

Darren could hear his mother ascending the stairs, the rattle of cups on a tray. "Does it have to be MY soul?" he asked.

K heart N

She saw the orange Necco wafer on the counter top and started to cry. Neil had his back resting against the kitchen sink, arms folded across his chest. Everything he had prepared to say died on his lips the moment he saw her shoulders crumple, the grocery bags dropping from her hands as she buried her face in her cupped palms. Muffled sobs, so raw, so authentic, he had to fight to suppress his compassion, choosing instead to grip all the tighter to his anger for support. If he wasn't strong she would manipulate him, the way she always did.

She uncovered her face, walked to the breakfast counter, and traced a line around the wafer with her finger. "I can explain-" she began, but he wasn't interested.

"You wanted me to find that," he said, voice low and controlled. "I know what you're going to say but I don't believe you. You wanted me to find that, and you wanted to make me angry."

She couldn't look him in the eyes, kept her gaze on the little orange wafer that bore the three simple words; "I love you".

She glanced up at him, but quickly looked back at the counter. "It was a stupid little... thing. Something he gave me. I shouldn't have kept it."

"It's not about you keeping it, Kathy." He spat the words out. "It's about constantly reminding me. I get it. You loved him and I'm second best."

She shook her head. "No, you don't understand. He wrote that on it for me. I didn't-"

"Not the point, Kathy. Not..." The first thing he saw was a long necked bottle of olive oil. Kathy dodged backwards away from the counter as he swung it down hard, shattering on the wafer, crushing it to dust. The flecks of candy were carried away on rivulets of spreading oil.

She stared at him, eyes wide. Neil squeezed his palm, watched the blood ooze where the breaking glass had gashed his hand. "Not the point," he said. He walked out of the kitchen. A moment later she heard the front door slam and a moment after that the sound of a car pulling away.

---

Over a day had passed. She was sitting at the breakfast counter, the kitchen dimly lit by the glow from a single under-cabinet light. The radio was tuned to an oldies station and there was a half empty glass of wine sitting next to the square tin where she collected her cake decorating equipment.

Her whole body tensed as she heard the front door open.

"It's only me!" Neil called out. "Kathy? Are you home?" The rest of the house was in darkness.

He flicked on the main light as he entered the kitchen. There was a bright white bandage on his hand. "Oh, there you are."

She got out off her seat.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I get so angry..."

She draped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. He put his arms about her and squeezed.

"What have you been doing?" Neil asked her, looking over her shoulder at the disgorged contents of her decorating tin on the counter. Amongst the items were several little bottles of food colouring, some standing open next to a badly abused packet of Necco wavers.

Kathy disengaged herself unsteadily from around Neil's neck and went to the counter, carefully scooping something up. She presented this to Neil on the palm of her hand.

He looked at the Necco waver. The letters looked as though they had been daubed onto it by a child. "K? Something... N?" His brow furrowed, but he was smiling.

She shrugged. "I wanted it to be nice. Perfect. I tried and tried, but I'm all..." she waved her fingers and thumbs at him. Neil laughed. "So I had a drink. And another drink.... it's supposed to say 'K hearts N'."

"Kathy loves Neil," he said.

She pushed the wafer into his mouth. "You bet she does," she said. She turned up the volume on the radio, letting the swelling notes of the Righteous Brothers envelop them, as she hugged Neil, swaying against him as he swallowed the chalky candy.

Kathy let go of Neil and sat down to wait. 'Unchained melody' was the perfect choice to drown out the sound of him choking. Such conceit. She'd even shown him. The letters on the wafer had spelled out KCN, the chemical formula for potassium cyanide. Best to put them out of their misery when they got hard to control.